


Fighting Blind

by flashwitch



Series: Fight and Sight [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark., F/M, Fighters, Gen, Phil Seer/Fighter backstory, Seers, Soul Bond, Tragic backstoy, allofthefeelings new trope, forced bond, like super dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:50:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashwitch/pseuds/flashwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Backstory for Fighter!Coulson. Prequel to Phantasmic. Reading that one isn't strictly necessary, but it would help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Blind

**Author's Note:**

> First off, heed the warnings, may trigger (see end note). Seriously, this isn't as graphic/explicit as a lot of my stuff but it's hella depressing. 
> 
> Secondly, plot bunnies bouncing around everywhere! Here's some Phil backstory, but I will probably be writing a lot more in this verse, time and life allowing. 
> 
> Thirdly, can I just say how awesome allofthefeelings over on tumblr is for coming up with the idea for this AU? Really very awesome! And they're encouraging anyone to play with the Fighter/Seer Soulbond AU! Check out their original posting here: http://allofthefeelings.tumblr.com/post/131680478195/i-just-had-the-worlds-most-amazing-fandom-dream

 

 

They’d picked him. Out of all the soldiers in his unit, they’d picked him. True, it was just because he was a Fighter, but… he’d never been picked first for anything. He's short, he had asthma as a kid, he's always been a nerd with his comics and his trading cards and never good enough at sports to make the team.

“We need men like you,” they’d said. “You’re country needs you.”

And he’d gone with them because he’s always wanted to serve his country. He’s always put the rest of the world before himself. He's a soldier, and that's what soldiers do.

They take him to a room, a lab. There’s a girl, well, a teenager. She’s sitting on the edge of a bed, wearing a hospital gown and a look of defiance. She is clearly terrified. She looks young and pretty with her brown hair and her blue eyes, but too pale, with bruises on her arms and shivers coursing through her body.

This is the moment when Phil wonders what, exactly, he has gotten himself into.

“She’s going to be your Seer,” they told him. And Phil knew it wasn’t supposed to work like that… people were supposed to find their own match, through fate and touch and kindness. Not through cut rate science in a cut rate lab.

Not with a child.

He tries to back out. To leave. He says he doesn’t think it’s for him. He didn't mean to... this wasn't what he.... please....

But Captain America was made in a lab. He reminds himself of this as they subdue him and tie him down. He’s serving his country. He is doing the Right Thing. Or trying at least.

There are electrodes on his face and a small cold hand in his and then there is pain and light and connection and it burns……………..

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

……..and then they are one.

Her name is Rebecca. Her parents think they’ve sent her away to a prestigious school. She got a scholarship. She plays the cello. She has a pet cat and a little brother and she’s only been seeing ghosts for a few months. She doesn’t understand.

She wants to go home. 

They are told they are now a unit. They are told they must fight. They are told it is their duty.

And as much as Phil hates this, hates that this child has been dragged in to this insanity, hates the pain and horror of something that should be beautiful, he knows they are right.

He can help. _They_ can help. If he and Rebecca try to run, they will be found and killed. And other people will die because they weren’t there to save them. _And,_ Rebecca chimes in at the back of his head and it’s terrifying and familiar and it _hurts_ , _they will kill my parents. My brother, he’s only 12. I can’t let them be hurt._

 _We won’t,_ Phil replies, _we’ll protect them. Them and everyone else._

They are one.

 

* * *

 

Years later, he takes Clint's hand in his and walks into the bland, pastel shaded building. 

They know him here and they smile and chat as they lead the two men through the winding halls to a familiar room. It hurts, even after all this time. There is a girl, well, a woman, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap, head tilted slightly as though she is listening to something no one else can hear. She's pretty with her brown hair (streaked with grey) and her clouded blue eyes. But she is too thin, too pale, no muscle on her frame, no colour in her skin. 

"Hello Rebecca," Phil says and sits down beside her on the bed. "How are you today?" 

When he touches her hand there is a brief instant where he almost feels something. Almost hears something. It's like white noise. It's like the roar of the ocean. It's holding an empty shell up to your ear and pretending something happened. 

"I spoke to your brother," Phil continues, as though she was listening. "He sends his love. He wants to come and see you, but his work keeps him away. You now how it is."

"What does he do?" Clint asks. He is hovering in the doorway, as though he is afraid to break the quiet stillness of the room. 

"He teaches music at a Jewish charter school in Brooklyn," Phil was talking to Clint but he was looking at Rebecca. "He says he still hasn't met anyone better than you with a cello."

She doesn't respond. Doesn't move. When Phil releases her hand, it just hovers there above her lap as he beckons Clint over. 

"I don't," Clint says, hesitating. "She's your bonded."

"So are you." 

The three of them sit there on the bed, hands joined, and talk about mundane things. Rebecca doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't respond.

* * *

 

"I should let her go," Phil says later when they are driving home. 

"What?"

"She's not there anymore, bonding to you proved that. If there was any spark of her left, there's no way we would have bonded."

"How do you know? There are other people with Tri-bonds, you know." It was true, there were. Usually one Fighter and two Seers with different gifts. Although occasionally you'd hear of a Seer needing two Fighters as well, although that was much more rare. 

"I don't... I didn't know when we bonded. It wasn't public knowledge the way it is now."

"I know," Clint glances over from behind the wheel. "I know you'd never have let it happen if you'd known what it would do to her." He takes a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't imagine... I spent my entire life running because I was terrified that would happen to me."

"I miss her. I mean, you and me, we're great. We fit together in ways I never could with Becky. We weren't meant to be. But... I lived inside her head for years. It was so hard to go back to silence."

 _You'll never have to go back to silence again,_ Clint promises, and it's a kind lie, a promise that can't be made. And then, to prove it, he starts singing 'I'm a Barbie Girl' in both their heads. 

Despite himself, despite the misery of this day, despite the fear that haunts him, Phil laughs. 

 

They are one. 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Abuse of a minor/experimentation on a minor, force bonding (which is portrayed as basically mental rape, although not explicitly), the government doing shady things to good people, conscription into service/slavery. There is also depiction of a psychiatric hospital and catatonia, but it's not a dark horror movie hospital, it's a pleasant if slightly depressing hospital.


End file.
